


music box

by Anonymous



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dancing, Fluff, Gentleness, Kissing, M/M, it's just gentle old man fluff okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:27:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23102446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Gilbert has always been anxious about trying new things. Hanneman is content to meet him in the middle.
Relationships: Hanneman von Essar/Gilbert Pronislav
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18
Collections: Anonymous





	music box

**Author's Note:**

> if you're looking for a reason why someone wrote this: i did it because i want to.   
> if you too are in old man hell because of the gilbert/hanneman supports: read on!  
> and if you know who i am, consider this the apex of my literary work so far

Sometimes, Hanneman called on Gilbert for no reason. He’d hear word from someone that he’d been looking for him, or that he had something to show him, and that he'd be in his office. And it never seemed to be too early or too late to visit him, because whenever Gilbert arrived, Hanneman was awake. He’d questioned once why he was so erratic, why he could always find someone to send for him, but he’d never been given a good answer. To Gilbert, that was Hanneman. Eccentric, full of far-flung curiosities and theories. Accomplishing things it seemed like nobody else had ever thought of, simply because it had occurred to him that he could. 

It was rare for him to understand what he was looking at when he arrived. Usually, it would be a pile of scattered documents, written in Hanneman’s nearly-illegible script and strewn around on top of the desk. Even when he had been able to read what anything said, it made very little sense to Gilbert in the first place, so he’d learned to look for other little signs as to whether they were good or bad. The way Hanneman, sequestered in some other corner of his room, was tutting and tapping his foot, or perhaps beaming with pride from the moment he saw someone else step in the room. Those things, he could understand, even after years of suppression of his own feelings. That he could become morose or excited about, even, as if their feelings were intertwined. And inevitably, once Hanneman demonstrated either his problem or his discovery, feel a little awe about. Because Hanneman- there was no two ways about it. He was impressive, both in his commitment and intellect. And so when Gilbert arrived at his office to find him crouched over a desk decorated with a shiny metal contraption of some sort, he asked no confused questions, but rather waited for the inevitable demonstration to begin.

-

“You’re right on time.” Hanneman began, looking up at Gilbert from his hunched position, hand still twiddling a fine metal piece attached to some sort of velvet-lined mechanical box. Gilbert had some doubts about that, as he was already a fairly slow walker, and only the Goddess knew how long it took the sorry messenger Hanneman had plucked from the hospitality staff to reach him. But he saw no reason to raise an objection, or disrupt Hanneman’s introduction, which he had likely been preparing for a while. Instead, he took his place on a seat in front of the desk, and readied himself for whatever he was going to witness. Hanneman seemed to take that as an invitation, as he lowered his hand against the gold-tinted construction of the lever, hesitating at the bottom of its first clockwise turn. 

“It’s hardly Crest-related,” he spoke calmly, “but I thought it was a rather interesting contraption. One that you might appreciate seeing for yourself.” 

“What function does it perform?” Gilbert asked, hesitant. He disliked how blunt he came off in comparison to Hanneman’s deft use of language, his endless inquisition, but he’d never been good at being any other way. And, observing the innards of the small machine, it did seem rather difficult to intuit what sort of purpose it served. Truthfully, Gilbert wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen anything like it in his life. 

“Perhaps that’s the sort of thing I’d be better off demonstrating to you.” Without another word, Hanneman pulled the lever down gently, moving it in a clockwise pattern of circles. And though it took a moment, Gilbert began to observe something twitching within the coils of joints and springs and pulleys- a little figure of a spire, mounted on a plateau of shining metal, which turned round as the tension released from the winding motion Hanneman was making. But perhaps what was more spectacular was the noise it made- not the noise of mechanical creaking, but the noise of pleasant bells and flutes, which played in time with the movement of the strange little figure. It was a cheerful sound, despite its tinny chiming, and Gilbert found himself tapping his fingers gently on his thighs as it played. Hanneman turned to him, beginning to speak as the music started to trail off. 

“I had a feeling you’d enjoy it.” 

Gilbert felt himself blush slightly at the idea that Hanneman had seen him appreciate it, and tried his best to relax his hands, to disguise the way in which he’d been expressing his simple satisfaction. Still, Hanneman seemed to have noticed, and the smile on his face was almost too much for Gilbert to bear. Faking a slight cough, he tried to think of something to say, something which would distract attention.

“It is quite remarkable.”

“Indeed.” 

“Is it of your own construction?” Gilbert asked, to which Hanneman shook his head. 

“Hardly. I picked this up from a merchant, actually.” Hanneman flicked the lid of the box gently, and it emitted a little metallic plink. “Though it was broken when I purchased it. Had it been intact, I doubt I would have enough money to have bought it.”

“And you fixed it-”

“Yes. It was not as difficult as I assumed it would be, though I did have to speak with Manuela to obtain some of the fiddlier tools for the job.” The smile was still on his face, directed both at his little passion project and Gilbert. It made Gilbert feel uneasy, but in a warm sort of fashion, as if he were testing the water of a bath before he stepped in. “She’ll no doubt want to have a look at it soon. But I figured you should have the privilege of seeing it first.”

Another one of Hanneman’s confusing little statements, where he would say that he was interested in Gilbert, interested in the things he did, even when they bore no relevance to his research interests or livelihood. Where he would care for him, even when it was unnecessary.

“I hardly think I can offer you any insight on it.” And it was true, though Gilbert did feel a little dismay about how down he acted, even when receiving such kindness. “But if it would be of any use to you, I could carve a wooden figure to replace the moving metal piece.” 

“Though that would be very kind of you,” Hanneman began, “I suppose I have invited you here for a slightly more research-orientated purpose.” 

Of course. 

“Aside from simply wishing to see you.”

Ah. 

“Gilbert, do you remember the last conversation we had together?” By this point, Hanneman had sunk down onto his own chair again, and with the way he was facing Gilbert, he couldn’t help feeling that he was having tea with the professor. The thought made him a little flustered, and he tried to push it down. 

“Yes. We were discussing the way crests impacted physical activity.” That had been Hanneman’s avenue of research at the time, but it had likely either been concluded or put on hold. Intellectual pursuits, Gilbert had come to realize, could be very ephemeral things. “But you mentioned that you had never danced before.” 

A little bit of shock entered Gilbert’s face at the idea that Hanneman had remembered that at all- his offhand comment on a lazy Sunday afternoon, one he had offered in response to another one of Hanneman’s stories about his youth as a noble, how he had attended many balls and the like amongst the fray of high society. 

“Indeed.” It was all he could really say, suddenly unsure as to where the conversation was going. 

“I heard that,” Hanneman mused, “and it disappointed me slightly. While I have much more pressing matters in my life nowadays, I cannot help but feel dancing should be experienced at least once.” 

“I do not think-”

“Please, try not to, if just for now.”

Gilbert wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he chose to say nothing. 

“It occurred to me that it may be easier for you to get the hang of it if there was some musical accompaniment. But also, that you may be quite reticent to spend your first dance in the public eye. I was unsure of how to reconcile those two things. But then, this came into my possession.” Hanneman turned the handle again, provoking it once more to life, as if to demonstrate its potential again. “What would you say about having a little go at dancing now?”

Gilbert wasn’t sure what he’d say, or if he could say anything. Both his hands and his face felt like they were encapsulated by flames, or some other great heat, one which made him twitch as he tried desperately not to gawk, to hold his mouth open in shock. The prospect of dancing- dancing with Hanneman, in private- seemed much too provocative to comprehend. He tried to think of the gentlest way to reject his intentions.

“...Thank you for your offer. But I cannot shake the feeling that I would be a greatly unsatisfying partner, particularly for someone with experience.” Gilbert’s voice was on the brink of stuttering, and he tried his best to rein it back. But Hanneman was already shaking his head in the same fashion as he did when he was refuting some sort of ridiculous theory, and drawing much too close to where Gilbert sat stone-still. 

“Nonsense.” His other hand, the one not poised over the intricate machinery, slipped from behind the desk and came to rest in front of Gilbert’s face, beckoning. “There will simply be more to teach you.” A contented laugh passed through Hanneman’s lips. “I doubt that I will struggle with such a task.” 

Though a deep part of Gilbert wanted to refuse again, to vacate the room, and to forget the nonsense which had transpired, a greater and more treacherous part of him commanded:  _ stay _ . Commanded him to accept the hand in front of him, to take it into his own, its gentle welcome accepted and treasured. And though he bit his lip against it, kicked and fought at its command, he could hardly bring himself to hesitate. Still unsure of where he was going, and rather anxious about the potential it held, he took Hanneman’s thinner, spell-scarred hand in his own and took to his feet, feeling the light traces of bodily warmth the finer fingers imparted onto his own palm like rays of sunlight. Hanneman himself stood, and as he did he wound the mechanism as tight as it could bear, holding the music in suspense. 

“When I release my hand, you shall take it in mine.” Hanneman said, voice calm and instructor-like. Gilbert nodded, glad to at least be given instructions in this strange new territory. “I will move side-to-side, and you will do your best to match my movements. Understood?”

Another nod. Gilbert felt almost like a boy again, surrendering to the command of his captain in regards to the intricacies of axefare and defensive maneuvers. 

“With that said, try to relax into it. Otherwise, it will not feel like dancing.” With that said, Hanneman released his grip on the little handle, and the box began to click, playing its cheerful tune as it did. Hanneman, true to his promise, gripped Gilbert’s hand as fast as he could, placing them in a formation of partners. Leading with his feet, gentle with practiced patience, he gestured for Gilbert to follow his movements. And Gilbert, as best as he could, tried to follow the precise ministrations of Hanneman’s feet on the soft flooring, the gentle upwards motion of his arms, the peaceful solace of his closed eyes. Tried to feel in tune with himself, with someone else, for the first time in a long while. And though initially shaky, almost careening into Hanneman’s intricate collections of oddities, Gilbert felt it become easier as the song wound down, enough that when it concluded he was moving less out of constant attention to his partner’s movements but more on his own instinct. When it stopped, Gilbert found himself thrown out of the rhythm, not solely by the conclusion of the beat which he had been timing himself to, but the sensation of warmth on his lips. Immediately flustered, but hesitant to let go just yet, he waited for Hanneman to withdraw, to move back from the chaste and gentle press of their faces together. He was quite sure he was turning beet-red, and all the while Hanneman remained quite even-tempered and gentle. 

“It’s customary,” he began, “to kiss your partner after a dance. I apologize if my actions were an intrusion of any sort.”

If Hanneman could feel his heartbeat through his hands, Gilbert was sure that he knew how fast it was moving, how he felt much like the little metal figure which sat at the heart of the box- suddenly sprung into action, thrumming like the beat of a bird’s wings. 

“It seems I have much to learn about dance.” Gilbert conceded, lowering his arms to where their bodies rested only a brief distance apart. “And I greatly appreciate you… illustrating such traditions to me.”

A gentleness manifested on Hanneman’s face, and he looked so suddenly kind, so suddenly warm, that Gilbert only barely constrained the selfish impulse to pull them together again, to indulge in dance once more. But the way his heart raced seemed all too much, and provoked him to lower his face to the ground instead, still glowing. 

“It has been a pleasure. Perhaps one day, you could demonstrate to me how exactly you hoist all of that armour around the battlefield. It is a rather impressive feat.”

“Of course.”

The air was still again, no longer punctuated by noise, but it felt immeasurably busier to Gilbert, who plucked a stray grey hair from his top lip as Hanneman turned back to shut the little box. 

Hanneman was a strange sort indeed. But he was kind, and intriguing, and perhaps even exciting. And at the thought of visiting him again, Gilbert could hardly contain the re-emergence of a smile on his lips. 


End file.
